


It’s A Lovely Day In Exandria

by HyperKid



Series: Press Y To Honk [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Artagan likes to think he’s a cynic, Crack, Fluff, Humour, Other, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid
Summary: For the prompt Soulmate Goose of Enforcement - everyone has a soulmate, and if you get close to yours geese will chase you until you meet.Artagan personally does not believe in such goose related nonsense, but he’s happy enough to spend a night camped out in the Lavish Chateau to escape a particularly aggressive goose.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & Artagan
Series: Press Y To Honk [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901563
Comments: 23
Kudos: 55





	It’s A Lovely Day In Exandria

**Author's Note:**

> HK: I heard about this two days ago and let me tell you I had no choice.  
> Mollymauk: It really is right up your alley!  
> HK: I am firmly in favour of all horrible geese and goose related media!  
> Mollymauk: And for good reason. Who couldn’t use more geese?  
> HK: Exactly! This is one that could get longer because the idea of writing baby Jester and her Traveler tickles me, so let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more! 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Nonexplicit sex talk and Artagan being a little fuck 
> 
> Disclaimers: I own nothing and no one but I will bet we don’t actually start Traveler Con tonight!

They say that your soulmate is the one person who will change your life. Who will complete you, and transform you into your purest self. Some stories say that it’s the half of your soul that was split away when some two bit god had a temper tantrum and split sapient life in two so that they could never challenge his power. 

Not everyone has a soulmate, or at least, not everyone meets theirs in every life. Because when a temperamental god gets bitchy, parts can get scattered across millennia, and two halves of a soul ending up in the same place, at the same time, is almost impossible. 

Which is probably why the geese got involved. 

You see, some stories have it so you can’t move on to an eternal reward until you and your soulmate are made whole. Your essence can return to the mortal planes in a new life and a new body to try and find that soulmate, or you can wait for them in the planes beyond, but there’s never that completion. Not until you’re found yourself. 

So the geese do what they can to reunite souls. They can sense that bond, deep in their bastard hearts. The open end, desperate for the other half. 

Whether they utterly despise it or feel sympathy for the sufferers is intensely debated, but the fact remains. Geese will chase people down if they stray close enough to their soulmates and force them together. 

Artagan was privately convinced it was all bullshit. As an archfey, at least in this life, he was longer lived than most. He’d certainly seen the honking, flapping geese forcing people into corners or to hide up trees. 

He’d taken a goose shape just to fuck with people who believed in such nonsense. 

There were always a few who got excited every time they saw a goose. Who hoped and hopped and fluttered if the birds showed even the faintest interest. In recent years people had begun believing you were supposed to date your soulmate again, which was always entertaining for those who liked to play with people. 

Sometimes it worked. 

Sometimes soulmates find one another within acceptable ages to try. 

More often, trying to be romantic with the one person who knows you better than yourself, who challenges you to change and better yourself ended in... tension. Because so much of change is driven by need. Because when you change so fundamentally, who you are at the end isn’t who you were at the beginning. 

Artagan had seen pretty much all permutations of this belief. So he was very, very much less than impressed when he arrived in Nicodranas and one of the large white birds hissed at him. 

“Shoo,” he hissed back, verdant eyes flashing with a sharp spell. The goose jumped, then hissed louder, spreading its wings. 

Passersby began to notice. People stepped away, clearing space to see who the goose was approaching. 

That was a bit of a relief. The reminder that it might not be his problem. So he obediently did the same, distancing himself from his fellow travellers and stepping just a little behind an impressionable young elf woman who was bubbling with excitement. 

Her excitement reached a fever pitch as the goose approached slowly, long neck outstretched. It flared its wings wide and she squealed happily, darting off a few paces to see if the bird followed. 

It didn’t. Artagan glowered at it. Without noticeable impact. 

And the fact of it was... Artagan wasn’t much of a fighter. A little mischief, yes. Causing trouble, absolutely. Enough power to do essentially as he wished in any world he came to, coming and going at a whim? A must. 

But actual... combat? No. Not when he could avoid, evade, confuse the situation or simply disappear. He just didn’t have the energy. 

So he tried to ignore the damn thing, sweeping away and further into the bustling city. He didn’t turn to see why the growing crowd began laughing softly behind him. He could hear the damn bird perfectly well, stalking after him and hissing. 

He could leave the city. 

Leave the plane altogether; he was far less restricted in his destinations from this point than he was in the Feywild. 

But that would be giving credence to the bullshit. That would be... well, he wasn’t against running away, but it’d be letting himself be controlled by an outside force. 

Archfey were not made to be controlled. The very suggestion rankled. 

So he made his way throughout the city, pretending he couldn’t see or hear the bastard bird as it stalked his steps, hissing loudly and flapping its wings. The damn thing wouldn’t leave him alone, not even with a more aggressive spell fluffing its tail feathers. 

Artagan did his best to ignore it. To just... not think about the whole affair. He was exploring, he was in a new and utterly delightful city, and he had far more interesting things to do than think about how he could possibly be incomplete. 

He was an archfey. Powerful, charming, sophisticated, whole realms turned to his will. He did not need anyone else when he was clearly so close to perfection. 

What would he even change? He couldn’t imagine anything but a detriment; if he’d wanted to improve himself, he’d simply spend the time and energy to do it. Other people were simple pawns, toys to play with, especially all these short lived creatures in the prime material plane. 

How could such dull creatures ever change him? 

But the damned bird only grew more insistent as he explored. A quick Dimension Door down an alley prompted a storm of furious honking and flapping as the goose took flight, the chase instantly becoming more intense. It seemed like it wanted to fucking bite him. 

It took a lot to scare an archfey, but that certainly didn’t mean he wanted to deal with an angry goose. He considered running. The indignity versus the fun of the chase, even if he was the quarry. It was tempting. 

And the goose drew ever closer, all flapping white wings and screaming. It didn’t seem inclined to retake its feet. 

It wasn’t slowing. 

Was it going to fucking tackle him? 

Decision made in a split second, Artagan ducked into the closest doorway and straightened, adjusting his cloak. A quick kick closed the door behind him on the flurry of honks and there was a rather satisfying thunk as the goose hit it. Artagan nearly returned the loud hiss, but instead checked his bearings. 

Ah. 

He’d found an inn. An expensive one too by the look of it, and he could see the broad expanse of a bar through a doorway. A rather lovely young half orc was already approaching him, his smiles all welcome and promise. 

“Have you come to hear the Ruby of the Sea?” He asked, completely ignoring the ongoing goose related commotion outside the door. 

That was a name Artagan knew. A broad smile spread across his face. Of course, he’d considered visiting ever since he’d heard her theme. Learning that she was a musician, an incredible songstress had cemented his interest. 

Her other profession was of little use unless he wanted to usurp her title, but so many of the fey had a love of music. Even Artagan could be persuaded by a beautiful tune, and he was eager to explore every pleasure this world had to offer. 

“I have,” he agreed with a smile, nodding through to the bar. “Will she be performing tonight?” 

The lad’s smile was just a little too knowing, and Artagan was tempted to correct his assumptions, but, well. If he caused trouble he might miss the performance. 

“In just a few hours,” the half orc agreed, holding out a hand to guide the archfey in, “if you wish to get a good seat you should enter now.” 

Well. 

Sitting in one place for ~hours~? Waiting to hold a seat? That sounded dreadfully boring. 

Or like an opportunity for mischief. 

About to refuse out of hand, Artagan paused. Smiled. 

“Will it be terribly busy?” He asked innocently, obediently following the gesture. 

Busy bars always held such promise. Especially when people were waiting for something special. 

The half orc boy nodded, his smile spreading into something more genuine. 

“Oh, always. It’s standing room only when the Ruby sings. Will you be bidding for her company after?” 

Artagan’s smile spread too, anticipating quite the evening to come. Maybe the damn goose hadn’t been such an inconvenience after all. 

“No, I don’t think so, but I may need a room for the night and some company. Will you be available?” 

That seemed to catch the lad off guard for a moment which Artagan thoroughly enjoyed, and then his whole demeanour shifted subtly. A little closer, a little warmer, a little more speculative. 

“I am,” he said coyly, just a hint of a low purr behind the words. Just that little bit more than the friendly courtesy he’d shown before. 

A consummate professional. 

Artagan liked him. 

And then a minotaur ducked below the lintel of the bar and made his way into the foyer. The archfey’s brows rose, suddenly entirely distracted from the pretty boy before him. Who looked far closer to laughter than any kind of offence. 

“Can I have that?” Artagan asked bluntly, caught on a whirlwind of possibility. Fighting an entirely inappropriate grin, the half orc shook his head. 

“I’m afraid Bluud is our bouncer, he isn’t available for company. Just keeping rowdy patrons in line.” 

“I can be quite rowdy,” the archfey mused and was privately quite satisfied to hear a startled laugh disguised as a cough. So subtle. He was really starting to like the lad. 

“If that takes your fancy, I have some rather large... accessories that we could use.” 

And just like that he had Artagan’s attention again. 

“All costing extra, I trust?” He asked, a brow cocked as he smiled. The half orc smiled back, letting a hand brush his wrist. 

“Somehow I don’t think you’ll mind. Would you like to check in now, or after the performance?” 

Artagan considered it for a moment. The enraged honking was still going on outside, but he hadn’t especially planned on leaving anyway. Not with a show and a very interesting night now in the offing. 

“After, I think,” he decided, nodding towards the bar. “I would like to get a good seat.” 

The boy smiled and nodded, gesturing towards the small desk off to one side. 

“Ask for Larsen if I’m not out here when you’re done. We can work out all the details when you’ve had time to think about what you want.” There was a sweet promise in his smile, one that Artagan was really looking forward to seeing fulfilled. 

He’d not specifically come to Nicodranas to visit the Lavish Chateau, but it had been on his list of things to see. Port towns were always so charming, full of mingled cultures and far flung people and places. Always something interesting for a traveller to see, a new destination, new stories. 

He had a whole lot more of this realm that he intended to see, and the damned geese weren’t going to stop him. But... a night at the Lavish Chateau had been on the list. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad as all that. He could certainly ignore an overeager pigeon. 

Heading through to the bar, several tables were already full. Those closest to the stage had been claimed first, though he could see at a glance that they’d been spaced deliberately to allow easy passage. 

He’d not been planning on being close to the action anyway. There was so much more fun to be had from the shadows, where one could go unobserved. He made his way to the bar first, a slight smile on his lips as he considered his options. 

Not quite in a corner. There were those who watched the corners, and shifty figures who loved to pretend they were dangerous. And while they were always fun to torment, he certainly wasn’t among them. 

There were plenty of tables left just within the outskirts, and more on the busier channels. He’d have his pick, and wouldn’t even need to clear the space. The thought brought a smile to his face. 

It was so nice to do things the easy way. 

He ordered a bottle and selected a seat essentially at random. All of the tables were large enough for a group, but he had no doubt he’d be able to keep one to himself if he wanted to. 

Settling in with his wine and a glass, he began to consider what mischief to get up to through the evening. 

** 

Larsen had not exaggerated the Ruby’s popularity. In the next hour or so after Artagan’s arrival, the bar near completely filled, with another hour to wait before she made her appearance. Every seat was taken and people had begun to crowd the back of the room, standing along the far wall. 

It was like a buffet for mischief, and it was wonderful. 

It took a little while for him to realize that he wasn’t the only one sampling. 

The damned goose was apparently still circling the building. A lot of the patrons had commented as they entered, or joked about it. Wondering who was hiding from their soulmate, because who could find one here of all places? 

While he usually wouldn’t have bothered, Artagan indulged himself a little today and let these conversations self select who would suffer his attentions. A few coins from their purse, maybe replaced by something interesting for later. A hint of enchantment. 

One particularly stealthy swipe of his foot when one fool tipped his chair back on two legs. 

He was not the one who tied a full table’s shoelaces together, though he did admire the effect when one stood, stumbled, and the whole table rose to assist and fell in turn, upending more than a few chairs. Nor did he drop salt into a few unattended drinks, but he did hear the exclamations of disgust. 

Someone else was having a little fun tonight. Not the most sophisticated, but then, nor was he. By the third little prank, a sword half unsheathed and then left to fall, he decided to make a game of it. One for one, and see when they noticed him. 

Adding salt to a drink had a certain old world charm, when you couldn’t do better. Artagan could do a lot better; water to wine was simple enough, and beer to ketchup was no harder. Beer to hot sauce was for when he felt less merciful. 

Interestingly, the bar staff didn’t seem surprised by all the little ticks. They handled confused and upset patrons with the slightly exasperated hands of those for whom this was a nightly chore. 

So his new friend was at the very least a regular at the Chateau. 

Artagan wasn’t precisely looking for them. He had no interest in seeking out precisely who’d done what just yet; why seek a confrontation that would spoil their mutual fun? 

No, he was perfectly content just keeping an eye out for opportunities of his own, and signs they’d been around. Plates switched from one table to another. Belts coming open, hats falling off. Nothing too drastic, nothing that would spoil the mood. Just... a bit of fun. 

A smattering of harmless chaos throughout the room. And then finally the lights began to dim and the crowd fell into an expectant hush. Artagan settled back into his seat and took a slow sip of his drink. 

He’d not had his fill of mischief yet by any means, but he was willing to put it on hold for a sufficiently good show. As music began to play, soft and sweet, all eyes turned to the grand staircase. 

All eyes but his. 

His were caught by a twitch of the curtain half way down, where a small blue face was peeking out. There was something in that tousled hair, a decided cheekiness about the eyes, and he knew he’d found his troublemaker. A tiefling, and one who bore a striking resemblance to the graceful red figure now descending the steps. 

A child. 

Probably no more than six. 

Well, that changed things a little. Artagan settled into his seat and let the music wash over him, part of his mind mulling over this new development. 

He usually wasn’t one for plans. He much preferred the spontaneity of playing things by ear, letting the situation guide him wherever his fancy took. But that sweet, mischievous, utterly enraptured face refused to leave him. 

He’d have to do a little exploring. 

** 

The Ruby’s performance had been everything promised and far more. Larsen’s follow up in the lavish suite Artagan ordered wasn’t quite as elegant, but equally breath taking in its own right. All in all, Artagan was quite happy to mark the Chateau as somewhere to come back to whenever he passed by. 

It had been late by the time the performance ended, and little feet had likely been spirited straight off to bed. Some casual conversation over whips and thrusting had revealed that yes, there was a child at the Chateau, but patrons were not allowed to see her. Understandable. 

A little more gentle conversation strayed into the pranks and, as he’d expected, the little tiefling was always the chief suspect. Young Genevieve liked to make mischief with all of the Chateau’s patrons, most of whom never knew she existed. 

It was delightful, some of the stories shared across rumpled sheets made Artagan laugh heartily, and he was quite happy to cut his night’s sleep short and rise early. He felt almost as if he knew the girl already, and couldn’t wait for them to meet. 

How best to gain her trust? 

How much did he actually want? 

Trust was overrated he decided as he eased pleasantly aching muscles from the bed, but best to put her at her ease. To meet her on her level. 

It was the work of a moment to gather his possessions and weave a spell, transforming himself into a young boy. Seven or eight years old, close enough to be a peer while still retaining the mystery of age. After all, what did time mean to the fey? Little more than it meant to small children. 

Tugging his green cape around himself and fighting a grin, Artagan ducked out into the halls of the Chateau. He had his room for three days. Plenty of time to make a new friend, and perhaps teach her one or two more interesting tricks. 

** 

The goose still stalking the Lavish Chateau settled ruffled feathers and disappeared into the predawn light, long before most of the residents woke. Artagan never heard it go, nor considered the implications of its absence. He was far too busy with his new friend. 

Artagan may have thought himself perfect or as close as could be in many ways, but as he would learn over the coming years, there were several areas he’d ignored. He had a lot to learn about empathy, kindness, and consideration for others, and meeting Jester Lavorre changed his life in a myriad of ways. 

**Author's Note:**

> HK: Remember, if you’d be interested in seeing their first meeting and subsequent fuckery, let me know! It’s tempting but my WIP pile is so high already... so if people are interested I’ll do it.


End file.
